Fantôme Faces
by itsthisjealousy
Summary: A tale of the ABC boys, a group of girls and the school year they weren't expecting. It turns out the aristocrats were not the only ones day had to worry about. ABC Boys x OCs. Supernatural AU.
1. Chapter 1 - Septembre

September brought around a fall breeze that swept in the season of overcoats and school boys. The University of Paris flooded with young men returning for another year of schooling after a summer of freedom. Changes came with the shift of season. The summer had not been without intellectual talks or debates but it had rid them of their textbooks, papers and examinations. Now academia reeled them in once again, forcing them to focus in on their professors and the three hours lectures inside the stone walls of the university. Of all these young men, Enjolras regretted his decision to return more than anyone.

He had spent the summer with the other ABC boys talking of revolution and a world where the bourgeois aristocracy would no longer exist. They dreamed of a world where men were equal and not squashed beneath the men who ruled. Enjolras had riled them up and convinced them that they could not become cruel men like their fathers before them. Like a great wind from the East he had raised the ABC boys up into a stupor with his shouts of revolution and a France where all men could be seen as equal. He wanted to help those who would be seen as below him and raise them up from the holes which they existed in. His education had opened his eyes to the world of sin that those above had created for those below. He was privileged enough to learn of their struggles but live far enough outside their realm to be able to speak about revolution as if it was the easy option.

But September didn't bring about red flags or wooden barricades, it brought fencing duels on the quad and luncheons in the dining hall. His friends began to talk more about the girls who met them after class than the plans to unite the people of France in a revolution. It was as if their summer plans had been but a day dream and they had been woken up by the call of new classes and professors who promised them higher education. Some men regarded the halls of the university as the place where they had built their true knowledge but Enjolras knew he had learnt more among the people in the past four months than he had in the past four years in these hallowed halls.

"Enjolas, come on, we're going to take the girls for lunch." Joly was one of the youngest of the group and he was certainly the most optimistic. He had been the first to fall easily back into the routine of flirting with women and pretending to read his textbooks. His heart was as light as a feather and his step seemed to be so as well. The smile that often fell upon his lips was absolutely infectious but Enjolras was hard to tempt and then invitation wasn't one he cared for in that moment.

"You lot go without me." Enjolras shook his head, stepping sideways on the path to separate himself from the group. His eyes glanced past Joly to notice the group of girls that waited for them with the other boys. There was nothing wrong with any of these women, some were more tolerable than others but none of the girls that the boys seemed to bring about were terribly shallow or obnoxiously ignorant. He had had a boat full of conversations within their numbers that he deemed to be intellectual and enjoyable but today his spirits wouldn't be lifted by even intelligent conversation with women. He knew he would have to listen to the rumble of flirtatious laughter and trivial topics that the other boys might try to entertain the girls with and he simply wasn't in the mood.

"Are you two coming or not?" the blonde amongst the group called with a tilt of her head. Laurel's eyes fell upon Enjolras, knowing he was the cause for the delay. Laurel would have been an Enjolras herself had she been born a male but her female disposition made her

choose different roots to revolution. She wouldn't be stockpiling ammunition of practicing her aim anytime soon but she had a quick tongue and was very good at reading people.

"Not today." Enjolras shook his head, patting Joly on the shoulder before he stepped off the path, heading towards the library where he hoped to clear his head in a quiet place. Joly watched him with a sigh, unhappy that he couldn't infuse his friend with the lightness that flowed through his own veins. Enjolras was a much older soul than he should have been at twenty six, even some of the older men had a younger spirit than him and they allowed themselves to enjoy in trivial events like luncheons such at these.

"I'm sure he'll come around later." Joly said with a sweet smile as he stepped up to the group and held his arm out to one of the girls. Liette took Joly's arm without protest but he gaze went to the back of the missing ABC leader who had left them. Liette had known Enjolras before most of the group but their friendship had been torn apart with distance until Liette's family had recently moved back to Paris. She had spent the summer trying to rekindle that bond that they had had in adolescence but Enjolras fell in and out with her like the tide. He swept in for friendship and then pulled away with the memory of the cause he yearned to fight for. He was a man torn between his own enjoyment and the life he thought he needed to lead as a revolutionary. The revolution had not yet come and still Enjolras lived as if it was just about to sweep him off his feet.

"So, where would you girls like to go?" Prouvaire asked, his arm linked with the third of the four girls as he stood closely with her. His eyes cast to Adelaide who was smiling, happy to have an arm to link onto. She could have had her pick from the lot but Prouvaire was ever the romantic and had swept in and stolen her with compliments before any of the others could. The boys outnumbered the girls today but that would not stop them from enjoying their company. None of them were proper suitors at this point, even Prouvaire was just a doting school boy with a flirtatious nature about him. Regardless, the girls had been their friends for several years now and therefore their company was always welcomed. They were not permitted to attend school and as unmarried women they did not have households or children to attend to so they had plenty of time to meet the boys on the quad and join them for a lunch or a game between classes.

"How about Les Rillettes?" Laurel asked as she stepped forward to lace her arms in with Combeferre and Bahorel. Just because there were six boys and only four girls did not mean that two of them had to go without attention. Laurel was known for not having the patience for any one of the boys for too long and yet most of them adored her. The girl existed in pure confidence of herself and therefore attracted the focus of many of the boys on every occasion. She considered all of them her dear friends but she also looked at many of them as if they were simply her brothers. "It's only ten minutes from here."

"They sell a fantastic brandy." Grantaire grinned, his mind always wandering to the same thing. He was an unlikely student but as Enjolras' closest companion it had been impossible for him to not fall in line and join the educated. Grantaire's entire existence among the ABC boys was contingent on Enjolras but he did not follow the man blindly. He was skeptical of the entire idea of revolution and was sure that such a drastic act would lose him the privilege of taking pretty women to lunch and everything else he truly enjoyed in life.

"Les Rillette it is then." Joly nodded in agreement "Should I run and tell Enjolras incase he changes his mind?" his head turned towards the direction Enjolras had fled to but his gaze came back to the group as Grantaire's voice caught his attention.

"Leave the fool, he won't come anyway." Grantaire shook his head knowingly as he quickly stole the one girl who had not been claimed. "Besides, Daveney looks famished, we mustn't let her go hungry for one more moment or she'll surely eat one of us alive."

"I think this fool is just dying to quench his thirst for brandy." Daveney pulled away teasingly and took Courfeyrac's arm instead. Courfeyrac happily took her in, amused to have taken a girl from Grantaire who now stood alone in the group. "Well then Grantaire, why don't you lead?" Daveney suggested, a bit of quip coming out of her as she stood strongly against him. Grantaire had been bold to tease the proudest member of the group of four. Daveney wasn't the type to sink into shadows and go down without a fight but she hadn't truthfully taken offense to Grantaire's comment. She would have driven herself mad by now had she taken every word he said to her as truthful thought. Grantaire liked to tease and he liked to tease her a bit more than most.

"Shall I grab my rifle and wave a flag above my head?" Grantaire jumped forward, not minding the silly game that Daveney had presented to him. In fact, it suited him and he fell into his role almost too easily. "Vive la France!" he shouted in a mocking nature, attracting the stares of the other students littering the quad. Grantaire only wished Enjolras hadn't been inside, maybe seeing this the man would realize how foolish he looked half of the time. They were just school boys, they should be enjoying themselves and acting like morons instead of planning some governmental upheaval. At least that was how Grantaire saw it.

"I fail to comprehend why you mock him so much." Liette's voice was low but strong. She had also known Grantaire from her childhood but her friendship with him was limited. Liette had always been a woman fond of logic and intellectual conversation which was why she was drawn to Enjolras and not Grantaire. Enjolras didn't care for foolishness but his passion made him rash and that difference between him and Liette made their relationship somewhat of a cautionary tale. Still, Liette could respect that Enjolras' passion had a level of reason and purpose to it whereas men like Grantaire acted with indignation for mere amusement and with little cause. Grantaire's excessive drinking and overindulgence made him an unlikely friend for a girl like Liette. "He just cares that people are suffering and we're still going to lunch, that's all." she understood Enjolras more than most despite the fact that she bickered with him almost as much as Grantaire did.

"Liette, we care as well but we all have to eat." Combeferre responded, not giving Grantaire the time to get in trouble with the girls. Although the others were not as distant with Grantaire as Liette, they would all defend their friend if he turned on her. "Besides, Enjolras has just given up a splendid lunch with the four of you lovely ladies for the pages of textbooks that he knows won't help him." his compliment was not lost on Liette and his kindness caused her to drop the argument with a sigh, her dark eyes going to the ground as she became consumed in thought.

"Grantaire's just teasing anyway," Adelaide chimed in as she walked with Prouvaire, her heeled boots clicking against the pavement as she sunk into the middle of the group. The parade of school boys and the four lovely ladies drew attention from the surrounding students and

Adelaide enjoyed that. The bourgeoisie lifestyle unfortunately suited Adelaide more than any of the boys would have liked. Still, they said nothing of it because the one time someone had they had almost lost the girls as friends forever. No one was without their flaws, Adelaide's taste for jewels and flashy ballrooms just happened to be her own but it couldn't be considered a worse vice than Grantaire's drinking or even Joly's gullible nature.

"Yes, everyone knows how much Grantaire loves Enjolras." Courfeyrac's lips curled into a smirk, waiting for the glare he'd get from Grantaire but surprisingly the leader of their company continued to walk on, not bothered by the teasing behind him. Courfeyrac's smirk faded for a moment, unhappy that his teasing had not elicited a fighting response. "Maybe that's it, maybe they're lovers and Enjolras didn't come to lunch because he's afraid we'll figure it out if they spend time together." the group took in Courfeyrac's joke with a laugh but Grantaire wasn't so kind. He snapped around, bothered by that comment but not quick enough to get the first word in.

"No need to sound so jealous Courfeyrac, I love you just as much as Grantaire." Enjolras hadn't made it past the library doors before he regretted distancing himself from his friends. He knew that if he sunk away into books and quiet corners he would lose them completely. This wasn't an option for him. One luncheon would not extinguish the flames of an upcoming revolution, in fact Enjolras figured it might be the way to grab their attention once more.

"I told you he'd come around." Joly grinned, happy that his positivistic mood was rightly placed. He had always ignored the other men when they jested him for being a ray of sunshine and that was because he enjoyed the feeling when his optimistic predictions ended up being right. Enjolras's hand patted his shoulder once more as he stepped in pace with Joly, not unaware of the smile Liette was casting him from the other side.

"So where are we going?"  
"Les Rillettes," Laurel answered from behind Enjolras.  
"I've heard they sell a fine brandy." the group chuckled at Enjolras' statement, enjoying

the mirrored image of Grantaire on his very different friend. The men were opposites in many ways but sometimes there was suspicion that their minds were a bit more connected than either of them would like to admit. "Is something funny?"

"Something is always funny. You just need to laugh more!" Daveney called back, her eyes watching Grantaire as he chuckled to himself about Enjolras. Despite the teasing, Courfeyrac had been right about Grantaire loving Enjolras, at least in the way that brothers love each other. They may as well have been born family members because they fought and acted like brothers all the time. Their souls were connected by a bridge of friendship that could not be burned by Grantaire's skepticism or Enjolras' impatience.

The group was quite the image to look at but here in the richer side of town they were simply another group of fancily free young adults who had time to discuss philosophy because they weren't breaking their backs working. Their privilege was painfully obvious as they strolled through the streets of Paris with pretty girls with rich frocks and paled cheeks. In this moment it was impossible to picture any of them laying down their lives for a struggle they had never lived. Only one of the boys had ever truly worked and that was Feuilly. His company was often sparse in the group because he spent the days in the factory, only coming to meetings at nights. He had never showed his face at one of these luncheons and he was practically a myth to the girls who

had never actually had the chance to meet him. Feuilly was the face amongst the men that actually brought experience to their cause and was able to guide them through what life was really like for the poor. He pulled away whenever they tried to show him charity so they had long forgotten trying to dress him up as if he was one of them. If only he could see them all now, he would be ashamed to see his friends being just like the men and women they positioned themselves against.

"A table for eleven." Grantaire announced clearly as he approached the hostess of the restaurant. Normally groups this size would have made a reservation but restaurants around the university were used to school boys coming through their doors in hoards, hungry and eager to sit down to discuss their latest breakthroughs. The hostess didn't bat an eyelash at Grantaire's request, instead she turned back to call to one of the waiters, asking him to set up the table.

The world moved for them as if it revolved around them and there was no doubt that each man saw the problem in it. You didn't have to be Enjolras to realize that being waited on this way was problematic, especially when they had friends working at this hour. It wasn't that there was something wrong with this lifestyle per say it was more so the fact that this kind of welcoming wasn't available for all people. Their revolution wasn't meant to destroy the ease and convenience of the life they lived but rather it was meant to raise everyone up to this level of comfort. It would be foolish to strive to beat down the aristocracy until everyone was poor, that would only add to the problem. The people just needed to be able to support themselves and every once in a while everyone should be entitled to a lunch like this.

Chaste white table cloths were thrown over the three tables that would hold their group. Some of the men fell back, allowing the girls to be escorted to their seats by just one man each. Courfeyrac led Daveney first, pulling out her chair and smirking the entire time. He was a handsome man and he was not without female attention but his handsomeness was just a biological trait whereas his competitive nature had been bred in him. Courfeyrac liked to believe that he already had Daveney wrapped around his finger but that couldn't be further from the truth. Daveney considered herself a girl who didn't experience the sensation of butterflies and was not prone to blushing. She took her seat and thanked Courgeyrac politely as she hid the bit of distaste that was boiling inside of her. Courfeyrac was a fine man but any man who allowed his arrogance and ego to enlarge his head was not the type to hold Daveney's attention.

The other men followed in suit, Bahorel taking Laurel, Prouvaire with Adelaide and Joly with Liette. Once the ladies were seated the men pulled out their own chairs and joined them at the table. Unlike the nights in the study above the inn on Rue de Villette there was a formality here among friends that hadn't existed in the summer. They knew their place in society even if they wanted to break from it. Sitting at the head of the table, Enjolras felt his muscles tense and his back straighten as he remembered why he hadn't wanted to come to his lunch in the first place. A violin played in the background as he heard the muddled talk of the other bourgeoisie pets in the lunch room. The words diamonds and gold hit Enjolras' ears like arrows, making him wish he was back within the quiet stacks of the university library.

"Enjolras." Liette called his name, snapping him out of the trance he had fallen into as she passed him a menu. Enjolras looked like a startled child as his head snapped up and he returned to their moment. He looked around the table before he glanced to his right, taking the menu from Liette's outstretched hands.

"Merci." he responded his eyes meeting hers for just a split second before he hid his thoughts in the menu in his grasp. His eyes saw the letters of the words before him but he wasn't really looking at them. He could feel Liette's eyes lingering on him, trying to read what he was thinking but he refused to give her any inclination with a gesture or a look. Soon enough her gaze was torn away by the expected gossip of the table.

"So when is the first fencing tournament?" Adelaide asked, her gaze shifting between the two men who sat beside her. Adelaide had once described it as a young woman's burden to be a beautiful girl surrounded by handsome school boys and she felt that burden now. Every man at this table was a suitable choice, even Enjolras and his melancholy, but choosing which man to focus on was much harder. Adelaide wasn't as good at juggling men as Laurel was and therefore she was left to make her choice. On any different day her idea of which one she might want to marry shifted and today she was finding it rather difficult to choose between Prouvaire and Bahorel.

To her right, Prouvaire seemed to be watching her but not truly listening. His eyes stared at her lips and how they curved into a smile when someone made her laugh. His hand clenched slightly, wishing he was holding hers beneath the table. He was a handsome boy and at twenty three years old he was exactly Adelaide's age but she knew that Prouvaire's attention was often fleeting and that he had looked at other girls with such desire before. Adelaide refused to be shared which was why her own gaze seemed to focus back over to her other companion.

Bahorel had always looked older than he was. He had a long face that was aged with dark eyes and a hard brow. He was not as much of a pretty boy as Prouvaire and that had everything to do with his peasant upbringing. Bahorel had once lived the life of a starving had lost his family to disease and famine but thankfully had been found my a wealthy widow before he starved to death on the streets. He knew first hand that there were other people like his friends, people who hated that there was a world of people living in squalor beneath their feet. The woman had raised him as her own and made him a societal man. With such an upbringing it was no surprise that Bahorel always treated their female friends with the utmost respect and today he hung onto Adelaide's words as if they were spun of gold.

"Not for a while, classes have just begun." Enjolras answered, his head still stuck in his menu.

"But matches begin next week." Combeferre corrected quickly, catching Enjolras' misinformation with a knowing smile. Despite their new change in scenery and the change in topic this conversation reflected many that had happened over the summer. Enjolras liked to lead a conversation and Combeferre was always there to correct him and put him on the right path when he was wrong. Dates of fencing tournaments or matches were highly trivial in comparison to talks about rifles and barricades but it was still something to be corrected in Combeferre's eyes. "You girls will come watch, won't you?" he asked, looking over to his right at Laurel.

"Well of course!" Laurel smiled, placing her gloved hand atop of Combeferre's on the table. "My bets are on your this year." she added playfully. He was a foolish man to let such light touch spin his stomach and yet he couldn't help it. In his head he tried to tell himself it was just a natural bodily reaction, something he couldn't control and yet his heart knew he was a fool. As a medical student, Combeferre often tried to cut things down into biological terms but no matter how many textbooks he had read about bodily attraction and arousal, none of them explained the

sort of stillness he felt around Laurel. It was completely counterintuitive considering that Laurel was one of those women who was almost always on the go and yet Combeferre felt the world spin a little slower with her about.

"Grantaire will you stay sober enough to compete?" Daveney looked down the table with a grin.

Grantaire placed his hands on the hardwood and came out of his seat a little, leaning over the table to get that much closer to Daveney before he spoke. "Maybe I will," his blue eyes were filled with a challenge that Daveney knew she was going to have to accept. "if you promise to bet on me."

"Then you have to promise to win." Daveney said quickly. "I don't like to lose."

"Oh I reckon you don't." he shook his head as he leaned back into his seat. "It's a deal then, I'll win the tournament for you. Sorry Laurel, looks like you chose the wrong man!" Grantaire announced down the table.

"You have to actually draw your sword before you can claim victory Grantaire," Laurel laughed at his childishness. "What about you Adelaide, who shall you bet on this year?"

Adelaide knew what Laurel was doing. Anyone who saw Laurel as a pretty little flower was clearly blinded by her beauty and her quick tongue. Adelaide had been friends with the girl for far too many years to know that her question was not innocent. Laurel would make them all choose even if she knew their choices would likely not last a semester. It was a game to the other girl and Adelaide knew she had no choice but to play.

"Bahorel will you be dueling this year?" Adelaide's body turned to the man but her eyes moved past him, watching Laurel's pleased look as she made her choice.

"I will." he answered simply, shifting slightly so Adelaide's gaze could no longer find Laurel which forced her eyes up to his. With her back turned to Prouvaire she could not see his disappointment, instead she was drawn into the clouded eyes of her chosen champion.

Laurel was satisfied with the puppetry she had just played on Adelaide and then moved on to play the same game with her other friend. These young men were all their companions but Laurel believed it was about time that they received a little more than amicable attention. She had not been without prospected suitors before and she knew the other girls had shared a many dances with men who would have liked to called themselves their husbands but things were different here. The ABC boys had always looked at the girls as people, not property and therefore it made them more suitable than any man she had danced with before.

With her glance finding Liette down and across the table the predatory nature of Laurel's game was almost unmasked in her very primal Adelaide the choice had been unclear and Laurel had forced her to choose between her prospects but Laurel knew Liette's situation was different. Despite Joly's spirited nature and handsome young looks, Laurel knew that Liette's attentions would never truly turn to the man on her right. It was the brooding leader of their pack that Liette's body was already turned to. Liette would make no bet at all unless it was on Enjolras. "I'm sure we all know who Liette would bet on, if he'd entertain us by joining the game or at least the conversation again." Laurel teased, noticing that Enjolras had lost himself behind a menu again. With her words the menu fell flat on the table and both Enjolras and Liette stared down at her with the same bothered look on their faces. "But what a mirthless match they'd make, with no chance whatsoever in besting even Grantiare and Daveney."

"Was it not you who just said you can't claim victory before drawing your sword?" Enjolras' unamused look turned into a slight smirk and Laurel knew she had hooked him in. After all, none of them would have so easily followed Enjolras had he always been this miserable so Laurel's challenge was to get him back to his normal self. He needed to learn to enjoy all things again, even frivolous contests like the one they were discussing now.

"Yes, but that is all contingent on whether or not you came with a sword in the first place." Enjolras was quick but Laurel was much quicker.

"I'm beginning to think it would be ill-advised to show up unarmed in your presence Laurel." he sighed, noting the grin that fell upon Laurel's lips. She was satisfied with the fact that he had hooked him into the conversation in such a way.

"So you'll compete then?" Laurel asked.

"If it pleases the court." a chuckle fell from Enjolras' lips and suddenly the group sprung to life. Enjolras would join them and not become a solitude loner outside the group, too focused on the impending revolution to even stay within the group.

"It'll be fun to shut you up for once." Grantaire grinned, slapping his hand on Enjolras' shoulder "I think that deserves a drink!" the man bellowed, gaining their waiter's attention by just his clamorous nature. "Waiter, five bottles of Merlot!"

"Five?" Adelaide's eyes widened, thinking it would be a little improper of them to be raging drunk at one in the afternoon, especially in public. Adelaide rarely drank. She found that wine loosened her lips in the most uncomfortable matter and she hated the lack of control that came with drink. She had insulted enough people after too many glasses of wine and therefore had decided it was best to keep herself inhibited.

"Six!" Grantaire shouted to the waiter, causing Adelaide to sink back into her seat slightly. "Enjolras has been awakened from the dead after a week of leaving the world of the living! Look at the renewed breath in his chest!" Grantaire played the part of jester quite well as he jumped up from his seat and stood behind Enjolras, wrapping his arms around the other men, pretending that his arms with being raised by the mere breath in Enjolras' lungs. "Welcome back old friend."

"Get off me Grantaire." Enjolras growled but he couldn't hide the hint of a smile that came upon his lips as the group broke into laughter. Grantaire was always up for a show. In the same ways that Joly brought a lightness to the group Grantaire brought a sense of humor. Despite the seriousness of his passion Enjolras couldn't deny that it felt good to let himself go for a moment. It was only one lunch, his ideas of revolution wouldn't fall because of it. "Liette, what are you staring at?" his attention diverted to the female at his side as he noticed her turned around in her chair.

"Well it's just...doesn't that look like Barthelemy? The man in the soldier's uniform, over there." But it couldn't be Barthelemy, he was one of them, a student and member of the ABC. Students were not expected to join the military and as a revolutionary it seemed completely impossible that Barthelemy would be wearing such a uniform. Yes, as the heads at the table turned to catch a glimpse of the man who had caught Liette's eyes they couldn't deny the resemblance. His head turned and caught them staring and in that moment they all knew it was him. His blue eyes widened, terror stuck through him like a flash of lightning in a storm. "It is

him." Liette's words were barely a whisper and yet they reflected the realization of the whole table.

"That'll explain why he wasn't in class this morning." Courfeyrac commented dully.

"There has to be an explanation." Joly's voice shook and he began to rise from his chair. Liette's hand came to his arm to stop him but he shook it away lightly as he stepped away from the table. His heart would not believe that his own brother would betray them in such a way. He needed to sort this all out.

The others watched as Joly cautiously approached the table that his brother sat at with a group of other men dressed in soldiers' uniforms. "This isn't going to end well." Adelaide fretted, tugging on her dress in a nervous manner as she looked across the table and the restaurant to where Joly was.

Barthelemy looked as if he was ready to bolt from the table and head out the door as if he had been unseen. A sort of shame washed over his entire body as his shoulders slouched and his eyes darted down to avoid his younger brother's gaze. "Brother." Joly's voice was but a quivering mutter as he stood before his brother's table. "What are you doing here?"

"Having lunch with friends." Barthelemy forced an evenness to his voice that was unusual. He had always been a carefree spirit, one who challenged even Grantaire with the amount of times he was late or even drunk to their meetings over the summer. He cared about the revolution but he wasn't motivated to the light the flame, he was much more a follower than a leader and he had never been much of an academic. Barthelemy had fallen in with the ABC crowd because he felt the need to protect his brother. They had lost their father when they were young and therefore Barthelemy had always been the anchor of the family; someone who Joly could stay tied to in order not be swept up in the rough current of a changing word. Now Joly felt the rope tied to the anchor fraying, if this was what it appeared to be he would float away from his brother indefinitely.

"You're friends are over there." Joly insisted, pointing back to the table. "These are...these are..."

"Soldiers." Barthelemy cut in, saving his brother from trouble. "Officers of the law and so am I Joly." the admission washed away any hope that this was some sort of joke or misunderstanding.

"You're a student!"

"I'm not." the once playful young man seemed to be working with hard syllables and short fragments instead of the illustrious prose he normally spoke into. His back straightened once more and he forced some confidence upon his body to make him look good in front of the other soldiers. They watched with weary eyes, unsure if they could trust the former school boy yet. "I've enlisted, I'm not a schoolboy anymore Joly."

"So you're a spineless fool then."

"Did you just insult an officer of the law?" one of Barthelemy's companions, a hard jawed man with ghostly grey eyes spoke up against Joly, his confrontational attitude causing some of the ABC boys at the table to raise out of their seats a little.

"Don't." Daveney spoke, cautioning them with her hand. "Trust him."

"We do, we just don't want to see him dead." Courfeyrac responded without looking back. He rose a little more from his seat until Daveney's hand fell upon his shoulder, pushing him back down. "Those aren't children he's picking a fight with Daveney!" his eyes were upon her now, narrowing in and filling with a rumbling rage.

"I'm well aware of that Courfeyrac but Joly isn't a child either. He doesn't need you rushing to his aid every second." Daveney did not back down, her hand remained on Courfeyrac's shoulder to keep him steadied in his char as her gaze went back to Joly.

"How can you just turn your back on everything you've ever stood for?" Joly had ignored Barthelemy's company and continued on with his challenge. He wasn't quite ready to accept this and therefore he was putting up a fight.

"Joly not now." Barthelemy tried to shut his brother down knowing such a public confrontation would bring about trouble, especially with the other boys ready to spring into action.

"I think you better go back to your friends school boy." the chiseled jaw soldier spoke again but this time he began to stand from his chair. There was a serious threat in his movement and despite Daveney's protest Courfeyrac wouldn't stand back any longer.

"Joly, lets go."

"No, he has to explain himself." Joly's heart had been shattered by his brother's behaviour. He felt the knife in his back and his whole demeanor turned cold. He was but a shadow of his giddy self as he stood in the restaurant frozen in the moment. His jaw set and although he hardly looked menacing it was clear that he was truly unhappy.

"Later." Courfeyrac's hand tugged on Joly's shoulder, pulling him back towards their table with a small tumble. Joly turned around to confront Courfeyrac, ready to send misplaced anger his way but Courfeyrac simply gave the young man a hard look that ordered him to stop. Embarrassed, Joly tore away from Courfeyrac's grasp and headed past the table. He left his high spirits behind him, shattered upon the floor at his brother's feet. "Barthelemy." Courfeyrac greeted with a sharp tone before he headed back to the table, reclaiming his seat beside Daveney.

"Should someone go see if he is okay?" Adelaide asked, unhappy that their meal had been ruined before they could order much of anything. She had just been deciding on lunch but now her stomach had turned with the embarrassment of the situation that had just happened.

"I'll go." Courfeyrac began to get up again but Daveney's hand was on him once more, still annoyed that he had jumped up and sent Joly off in the first place.

"No. You'll just feed the flames." Daveney's brown hair shook against her shoulders as she raised up from her seat. Like gentlemen the boys stood as she went to leave the table. "I'll go check on him." with a nod of her head Daveney pushed off heading towards the door, hoping that Joly hadn't wandered off too far to be found.


	2. Chapter 2 - La Luna

It only took a moment for Daveney to catch a glimpse of Joly's figure marching away from the restaurant towards a square across the street. She watched for carriages before she lifted the material of her dress and scurried off after him. She was an image of pastel green and white moving through the stone streets. Her mother would have told her that proper ladies never scurried but she was hardly thinking about her image at that moment. Daveney's own siblings were nothing like her or the ABC boys so she understood some of the discomfort Joly was feeling. Her older brother had refused an offer to join the ABC just months before he accepted a position in a governmental office, caring more about upward movement than the people below. They rarely spoke to each other now unless it was in formality or bitterness. Daveney hoped that things would not progress the same way for Joly and Barthelemy.

Joly stopped at a stone bench in the square, sitting down before he threw his face into his hands. Daveney's step quickened once more until she found her place beside him on the bench. He flinched slightly as her hand came to the top of his back but his muscles relaxed once he looked up to see who his company was.

There was a silence between them that could have lasted hours but it wasn't uncomfortable like some silences were. The entire world continued to move around them as people walked through the square and carried on about their day. Now that Daveney had stopped running there was absolutely nothing unusual about this scene, it was just a young woman and a young man sitting together. Daveney's eyes remained on Joly as he raked his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself down mentally before he spoke. Joly had always been careful about what words he used but he knew in such a frenzy he couldn't trust his own tongue. He had been ready to have it out with his brother right in the middle of the restaurant and that wasn't like him at all. He was struggling to pull his regular self out of this pit that Barthelemny had sent him into. Joly had felt sadness before but he had never experienced such a back-stabbing level of betrayal.

"I don't understand how he could do this." Joly finally spoke, his words hitting to the ground as his gaze remained there.

"I'm sure he has a reason." Daveney replied, hoping for Joly's sake that the reason was a good one. "You'll just need to talk to him."

"Courfeyrac shouldn't have pulled me out there." Joly's words were as scattered as his thoughts. He couldn't pick through all the things rushing in his head in a logical order so the statement just seemed to fall out out of nowhere.

"I don't disagree." Daveney nodded, thinking of Courfeyrac's asinine need to throw himself into every conflict as if he was the only one who could solve anything. Daveney had been aware of the danger Joly faced by confronting officers but she had seen solutions other than just sending Joly away with force. She would have intervened in a softer manner, knowing that for once her femininity would have been in her favor. Men softened their words and their actions around women like Daveney and her friends so it would have been easy to pull Joly out of the situation with words and a flirtatious smile. Stooping to such a low might have bothered Daveney in the long run but it would have removed Joly out of the situation without the embarrassing confrontation he had had with Courfeyrac. "He's hot-headed and cocksure, but you can't let him get to you."

Joly managed to let go of the shortest laugh possible, amused by Daveney's distaste. "And here I thought you liked him."

Daveney welcomed the shift in topic. She had come out here to console Joly but the truth was she had always been better at joking around than dealing with the emotional side of things. Daveney always did her best to make people smile or laugh, even at her own expense but it was Adelaide who was better as consoling people in their time of needs. Daveney would play the part of the thoughtful listener when needed but she usually found it difficult to find the words to say at the end of it all.

"Courfeyrac is well..."  
"He's Courfeyrac." Joly offered with another laugh.  
"Exactly." their laughter mixed as Joly's head lifted to look to his companion. She leaned

over and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling him relax even more into their closeness. "You mustn't let them get to you Joly, you're far too good of a man for that." Daveney hated the idea of watching Joly become lost to cynicism and pessimism like some of the other men. It was far too uplifting to have a little spite like him reminding them all to smile in dark times. He was a flame in the group that brought light and warmth instead of destruction and passion. Most of the men burned with such a passion that they got swept up by the lightest of wind but Joly's fire was something different and it was truly infectious. Daveney found herself that much happier in his presence and she would hate to lose that.

"I just don't understand." he said, his voice falling again, making Daveney wish she had stayed off the topic. "None of it makes sense."

"I know." she had no explanations for him, after all she was as shocked as anyone to see Barthelemy in uniform and sitting at a table with men of the law. The lawmen were not their true enemies but they were pawns for the aristocracy which meant they had to be watched with a careful eye.

Daveney lifted her head from Joly's shoulder and tried to get a good glimpse at his face, wondering if she had come to gain some of Laurel's talents for reading expressions. It was clear that Joly was in pain but Daveney wanted to know more so she could try and figure out some way to reduce it. She didn't like to watch people suffer which was exactly the main reason she had aligned herself with the ABC boys. There were days when she wished she wasn't vexed by her sex and had more of a chance to move among their ranks and contribute. The girls had been permitted into the meetings at the inn but Daveney had aways found that the more of them that came the less serious the talk was. Enjolras had always continued on with his plans and his rants in their presence but the other men had been easily distracted. Daveney would have killed for the chance to move amongst them without affecting their ways.

Daveney had been a tom boy in her youth, going so far as to cut her hair short with a pair of scissors. She had insisted on pretending to be her brother in games when he was not around and had gone so far to call herself David at times. She grew out of that act as her mother threw her into dresses and her body started to change into that of a young woman but Daveney didn't lose that little tom boy completely. She fussed less about dresses and allowed her face to be painted when necessary but for the most part she preferred the days when she was permitted to wear pantaloons and her hair was allowed to be tied back with one small ribbon. Those days without hairpins or heavy makeup allowed Daveney to feel more like herself than ever. She hoped that the revolution would do more than just free the impoverished from their shackles but that it would also allow women some more freedom in their dress and their behaviour.

"The others must think me a fool." Joly spoke once more, his thoughts bouncing back and forth through the entire debacle.

"We were all as shocked as you were. No one thinks less of you Joly, I assure you." Daveney reached over and took his hand in his, squeezing gently to provide him with some comfort. Despite Adelaide's natural tendency to be the nurturing one, Joly was actually happy that it had been Daveney of all people to come out here. He worried the others would have scolded him for making such a scene or perhaps even provoked him into going back inside to finish what he started. At the very bottom of it all Joly knew he didn't want to pick a fight with his brother in public. The idea of fighting family was exactly what had set him off in the first place. He wondered if Barthelemy even realized that by wearing that uniform he had positioned himself against his own brother and all of their friends. Enjolras always talked about how the uprising would come and that it was just a matter of time too so Joly wondered if it would come too quickly to save his brother from fighting on the other side. If Barthemely didn't smarten up they would be shooting at each other and it wouldn't be completely unthinkable for one to die at the hands of the other.

A breeze swept through the square, loosening a bit of Daveney's hair out of the bun that the rest was neatly tucked into. She moved her hand off of Joly's back and pulled the strand of her back out of her face, catching his attention with her minute movements. His fists unclenched and his shoulders dropped slightly, not into a slouch but into a more comfortable position. "I wish you hadn't bet on Grantaire."

"What?" Daveney was astonished not only by Joly's words but by the way he was looking at her.

"Well, I'm planning on competing as well." he said, giving her a sheepish smile.

Blushing wasn't something that Daveney did often and yet she felt a hint of pink creeping onto her cheeks in a way that made her quite comfortable. She liked to believe she was a fortress when it came to not being swayed by men's affections. She actually considered herself cursed by her own beauty, not in a way that was vain or childish but in such a thought that she worried her looks detracted from her interactions. Joly was being sweet but she hoped he wasn't getting whisked away in some fairytale just because of her beauty. The idea of things getting messy or complicated between the two of them scared her, especially as she felt her heart speed up a little bit as he reached over to take her hand.

"Shall we go back inside and have lunch?"  
"Are you sure?"  
"Well Grantaire did say you looked famished didn't he?" the jest earned Joly a small slap

on the arm but it caused him to smile and that was something Daveney was proud of. Joly stood from the stone bench in a small leap up and then held his arm out for his female companion, helping her up and leading her away from the square. This time Daveney didn't scurry across the street, instead she trusted Joly as her guide as they stepped in time together, heading back towards the restaurant. Joly froze only for a moment as they hit the curb before the restaurant just in time to encounter his brother and the lawmen exiting. The chilled look Joly gave his brother made Barthelemy hang his head before pushing past them to catch up with his company. Joly said nothing but a small squeeze on his arm from Daveney had him unclench his jaw before they reentered the restaurant.

The table of their friends seemed to stop the frenzy of their chatter as the two absent members of their company returned. Everyone turned their head to the duo who sat back down in their seats beside each other. Courfeyrac was the only one who didn't bother to look at Joly or Daveney. He had been scolded by the rest of the company for his interference and now for once he was quite silent.

"We weren't sure if you were coming back but we waited to order." Combeferre said with a warming smile.

"Yes, so you two better know what you're having because I'm starving." Prouvaire chimed in, creating a rumble around the table and pulling a laugh from Joly's lips. Everyone seemed to take the chuckle as a cue to relax, they could discuss the unfortunate situation with Barthemely later but for now they could just enjoy their luncheon. Grantaire's bottles of wine had come and after such an altercation Joly was relieved to have the sweet nectar calm his nerves. He drank his first glass quite quickly, finding that it helped him settle back into the conversation of the table with ease.

The group had mere minutes after ordering their meals to actually enjoy their conversation. The first disturbance was forgotten but a second came on swift wings that seemed keen to ruin the day. A young man in a plain navy suit appeared at their table, his chest heaving with harsh breaths that showed the urgency in him. "Miss Adelaide?" the man was unfamiliar to the group which was why he mistook Daveney as her friend. Both girls looked similar with blue eyes and brown hair but at the mention of her name Adelaide rose from the table, catching the messenger's eyes and attention. The men of the table rose also, their formality mirroring the situation earlier where Daveney had left their presence. The young man in the navy suit pushed forward, coming around the table to stand before the risen girl. "I'm sorry," he apologized for the confusion. "Miss Adelaide I have a message for you."

"Go on then." she said, not understanding his secracy.  
"You're father has returned to the hospital."  
"I need to go." Adelaide did not need the rest of the message, within a flash she appeared

more urgent than the messenger. She picked her gloves off the table in a frenzy, dropping one carelessly and finding it difficult to bend in her dress to retrieve it. What did it matter? She had a dozen more pairs where that came from but she only had one father.

Bahorel picked the glove up quickly as he watched with a worried look as Adelaide went to the door. "I'll accompany her." the man spoke to the others, allowing them to sink back into their seats, worried looks written on their faces as two more of their company abandoned their table for the outside.

Bahorel caught the carriage door before Adelaide could be locked inside. "To the hospital." he nodded to the driver before he closed the door behind him and took a seat across from Adelaide. His hands gently moved some of the taffeta pink of her dress, making sure none of it fell underneath his brown leather boots. Bahorel was used to speaking up only when he had a witty comment or something important to say so now words were lost on him as he looked upon the worried face of the girl across from him. Instead of speaking he reached across the carriage and slid Adelaide's discarded glove onto her hand, taking the other one for her to put it on as well. It was a gentle motion but one that was meant to calm her, instead it brought her to tears.

"I'm sorry." Bahorel whispered, regretting the decision to make such a move. He hated to see such an image of beauty in so much pain. Everyone was well aware that Adelaide's father had been ill; he had been in and out of the hospital for almost a month now. Now, just as things seemed to be looking up it appeared that there had been a downfall. Bahorel hoped for Adelaide's sake that it was nothing too serious but he would stay with her as long as she wanted him there. His hands fell upon her dress again, shifting it gently so he could move across the carriage to sit beside her, feeling that a physical closeness might make it easier to comfort her. He hesitated, moving his arm back to place it around her but not actually touching her incase she did cry more.

Adelaide's breath heaved as she found it hard to take in air between the sobs and the tightness of her corset. As she felt Bahorel's arm hovering around her she took it as a silent invitation to move in closer to him. She practically threw her head into his chest, hiding her face against him and taking in his protection. She usually wouldn't have acted to informal in public, even in a closed carriage but at that moment her emotions got the best of her. Make-up was no doubt running down from her eyes, likely staining Bahorel's clothing but that did not stop him from pulling her closer, his arms now wrapped around her tightly as if he could take away her pain in such a way. He knew there was little he could do but support Adelaide here and hopefully calm her down. He had no more words to whisper in the creaking wooden carriage so he simply allowed her to do what she needed to.

The carriage ride felt like a lifetime for Adelaide and although she felt safe in Bahorel's arms, his closeness did not ease her worry. She did not give the messenger time to tell her what was wrong exactly so her mind began to imagine all of the worst things. Her deepest fear was that she would not get there in time, that he would be gone before she even stepped inside the hospital. It took over her, eliciting heavier sobs from her lips as she began to picture her father's body laying lifeless in the room as she entered.

Bahorel's arms pulled Adelaide closer to him, instinctively thinking that such a move would calm her but in this silence Adelaide was left to the disastrous effects of her thoughts. As a child, Adelaide had developed the most vivid imagination. She had no brothers or sisters so she had often been left on her own, needing to create entertainment for herself. Rather than falling into lonliness Adelaide had made up entire worlds in her bedroom that consisted of lives she would never live. All the minute details of her special worlds had remained in her head for quite sometime but as she aged she began to lose the images of those spaces she had created. Still, she retained her wondrous ability to create and although she felt no need to make up worlds to escape into she did have a tendency of imagining scenarios within her own world. Today that tendency was not working in her favor.

"Adelaide," Bahorel's voice was hesitant but strong as he realized he needed to do more to calm her. "It's going to be okay." but what if it wasn't? He could only tell her what he hoped to be true but the fact was that Adelaide's father had been ill for a while now and his condition did not appear to be improving. This hospitalization would likely only make matters worse and Bahorel assumed that it would make things even harder for Adelaide. He had been young when he had lost his family so much of his suffering had been repressed and lost to him. The figures of his parents danced in his mind like silvery ghosts but they were nothing more than that. Bahorel knew that if Adelaide lost her father now she would never be able to forget him.

The carriage came to a sudden half, jolting the two of them forward slightly. They had arrived. Bahorel threw the carriage door open before the footman could even descend from his perch. With urgency he stepped out of the carriage and held his hand out for Adelaide, helping her out so they could get a move on. Bahorel stopped only for a moment to lift wipe some of the dark makeup underneath Adelaide's eyes, not minding her disheveled look himself but knowing that eventually she would look in a mirror and the sight would only upset her more. Bahorel had never seen Adelaide looking anything other than stunning so it was clear she put effort and time into her appearance. He didn't want her to have an even worse day than she was already having because she didn't like her reflection.

In truth there was nothing that Bahorel could do to put Adelaide back together. Until the girl knew that her father was going to be okay she was going to be in shambles. Bahorel was right to believe that her appearance mattered to her but she was not so shallow to place her looks at a higher level of importance than her family. Her family would always come first to her. She moved away from his hands and didn't worry about taking his arm again as she moved towards the hospital doors.

The Hotel-Dieu was one of the older hospitals in Paris but it was known for excellent care and high standards. Adelaide knew her father would have insisted coming here the moment he felt ill again, preferring to stick with familiar doctors instead of bouncing around with people he didn't know.

Monsieur Pinard was a proud man and he was not the type of man who would ever be marching alongside Adelaide's schoolboy friends. Adelaide's came from old aristocratic money and they thrived in it. Even here at the hospital Pinard received the best treatment a man could buy because he did in fact buy it. He paid doctors to keep his secret, hating the idea that anyone would think of him as a dying man. In the public's eyes he was perfectly well, Adelaide's friends only knew of Pinard's sickness because Adelaide had been unable to keep her emotions locked inside like her father would have liked.

Adelaide's pale pink dress stood out against the bland white walls of the hospital as she glided through the halls, gaining directors from nurses and other orderlies until she found herself in the correct location. Adelaide reached her father's room just at the same moment as someone was leaving it.

For the second time today Barthelemy showed up in a shocking way. He exited the room without a word as he caught the eyes of Bahorel and then Adelaide. Both of them were mentally questioning what he was doing here but neither one of them dared to ask. Barthelemy stood out like a sore thumb in his new uniform. The navy coat with a white cross overtop of it and red trimmings was quite casual from the brown and tan coloured clothing that they were used to seeing him in. Even his fair was different and for once his face was clean-shaven. He seemed shocked to see them there, clearly having thought he would have been gone before Adelaide arrived.

Adelaide had no time to question Barthelemy or even worry about his presence. Instead the girl pushed forward, leaving Bahorel where he seemed to be frozen in the hallway. Adelaide needed to be with her father and even Barthelemy's odd appearance couldn't stop her from making that happened. The puff of pink disappeared into the hospital room just as Bahorel regained his ability to walk.

The two men stood in a standoff in the hallway, Barthelemy knowing that Bahorel could go after him as Joly had wanted to back at the restaurant. Here in the hallway he was alone with little explanations or protections that would stop Bahorel from hurting him. Bahorel was certainly more of a threat than Joly and Barthelemy was aware of that. He had wrestled and fenced with the man before and knew he was a more skilled fighter than he was. The last thing Barthelemy wanted was a brawl in the hospital but he knew how loyalties ran deep with the boys. In their eyes he had betrayed them and there was little he could say that would change that. What he could say he doubted they would believe.

Bahorel stepped up to Barthelemy, their heights about equal but there was a strength in Barthelemy's stance that was not mirrored in the other man. Barhelemy seemed much smaller than he had ever been. Over the summer he had shown himself as such a bolstered ball of energy with a booming voice and a hearty laugh but here he was but a timid man, too afraid to look his friend in the eye.

Bahorel's turned his head, looking in at the heart-wrenching scene inside the hospital room. Adelaide's pink dress fell in front of light blue bed sheets and her paling father. Monsieur Pinard turned his head slightly, exposing a large gouge on his neck that had clearly been covered by collars and scarves over the past couple weeks. Bahorel had thought the wound had happened at the beginning of the month but as he looked at the older man's neck he could have sworn he was looking at a fresh injury. It would have been useful to have had Combeferre here with his medical knowledge. Bahorel himself was a student of the law so wounds said nothing to him other than the fact that clearly an injustice had been done here against a sweet girl's father.

Unable to look at the wound for too long without feeling slightly sick Bahorel turned his attention back to Barthelemy. "What are you doing here?" he finally asked, trapping the other young man in the hallway with his words instead of his fist. "Did you have something to do with this?"

"No! How could you think that?" Barthelemy reacted quickly.

"Then why are you here?" Bahorel shifted away from the doorway so that he was standing in the middle of the hall. He became a physical barrier for Barthelemy, trapping him there until he explained himself.

"To check on him." Barthelemy's eyes remained down, even as he turned his head to look into the room.

"How did you even know he was here?" as a prospective lawyer Bahorel was being trained to see holes in stories and right now Barthelemy's was riddled with them.

"It's complicated." he deflected.  
"You did this."  
"No!" Barthelemy shouted in denial, refusing to be backed into a corner. He was

somewhat defeated after the troublesome encounter with Joly but that didn't mean he would completely break. He would not take blame for something he did not take part in. There seemed to be a shift in Barthelemy in that moment, he looked around anxiously before he opened his mouth again. "Look at him, no man did that to him."

Barthelemy's body turned towards the door as he looked inside. Pinard seemed to lift his head slightly in response to the confrontation outside of his room. His eyes connected with Barthelemy a stern look crossing his weak face before he rested his head back down upon his

pillow. Barthelemy knew he needed to get out of the hallway and move away from here before any more attention could be brought to Pinard but Bahorel still stood in his way.

"What are you trying to say?" Bahorel asked, confused by Barthelemy's cryptic words.

"We don't live in the world that you think we do." Barthelemy's words only confused Bahorel more.

"Clearly not with you in that uniform." it was a statement made to cut into Barthelemy and it did indeed wound him but for now he ignored the string.

"It'll all make sense eventually. You'll understand...you all will." With his words placed carefully between them Barthelemy found courage to step up against Bahorel. Bahorel's back straightened ready for a fight if it was to come. He welcomed a brawl when the opponent deserved a beating and after his behaviour today Bahorel saw Barthelemy as a worthy victim. To his disappointment Barthelemy just pushed past him. "You'll see." he muttered before he took off down the hall.

Barthelemy's pace quickened as he reached the stairwell that would free him from the hospital's containing grasp. He needed to take his jacket off and to breathe in some fresh autumn air. The warmth of the afternoon was stolen by the autumn breeze but Barthelemy welcomed the wind as he stepped outside and began to walk the length of the hospital. His day had been far more hectic than he had expected. Barthelemy knew that eventually his brother and their friends would find out about his new allegiance but he hadn't expected it to happen so soon. He had dropping out of university, leaving his school days behind him for a gun, a uniform and a secret that he wished he could tell his friends.

There was a reason Pinard's wound looked fresh despite the fact that he had been injured almost a month ago. There was also a reason why Pinard insisted on keeping his condition a secret. It was more than just his image as a societal man but his fear of what had happened to him. He had told his family he had been attacked by a wild dog but close inspection made it clear that the marks on his necks were from something much bigger. The members of the guard had been keeping tabs on Pinard's condition because of these mysterious facts and today their suspicions were confirmed by the freshness of his wounds. There had been no second attack but the first one was being awakened by the mere fact that tonight the moon would rise bright and full. After all, it hadn't been a wild dog that attacked Pinard, it had been a werewolf.


	3. Chapter 3 - Sorcery

**Hello readers, I just wanted to say thank you to those of you who have come and checked out this story. I have several chapters already written that I'm just changing slightly as this was something I had written for my friends but had never posted before. I'd appreciate reviews if you have anything you'd like to say, advice is always welcome. Thank you.**

Lunch was most definitely ruined. Despite the fact that most of their company had remained, the commotion had shifted their plans so much that some of the boys ran out of time before they needed to return to the campus for classes. They ate quickly and said their goodbyes while leaving money on the table before rushing out the door. Grantaire's bottles of wine were hardly touched so the waiter took four of them back since they hadn't even been opened.

By the time the bills were payed and their table was cleared only four of the original eleven company members remained. All returned to class with the exception of Daveney and Joly who had decided to go to the park while they both had the free time on their hands. They had been an unlikely pair but Daveney's show of compassion for Joly earlier had made the young man cling to her. The others watched them head off knowing well that they had been kind to let them go on alone.

The remaining foursome consisted of Liette, Laurel, Combeferre and Enjolras. To Laurel's surprise, Enjolras had not run back to the library at the first chance he got but instead decided to stay and accompany Combeferre in walking the girls home. Laurel was meant to join Liette's family for dinner tonight and although they could have easily called a carriage the walk from the university area to Liette's family home was not unbearable especially on a warm fall afternoon. Liette was glad to be walking beside Enjolras even if he seemed distant from the group. She imagined his thoughts were preoccupied with fantasies of marching a band of revolutionaries down this very street one day. He had become so singularly focused on the revolution that it was difficult to imagine him thinking of anything else.

The day was beginning to slow down and all around them were people untouched by brothers in army uniforms or fathers in the hospital. Instead, people were worried about the success of their shops and the business that could be had. Smiling faces looked out at them from beyond registers where shopkeepers hoped that young men and women like themselves would come into their store to make a pricey purchase. Laurel and Liette were fond of shopping, especially in each other's company but they had promised the boys a simple walk home and knew they would aggravate them if they diverted into the stores.

Laurel's arm was tucked into Combeferre's as they walked behind Enjolras and Liette. There was a simplicity to this stroll that Laurel actually found refreshing. She was for the revolution in theory but there were moments when she appreciated the benefits of the life she led. She knew she wouldn't be completely unhappy staying in her place as a member of higher society even if that meant giving up the idea of barricades and peasant marches. Laurel figured she wouldn't be permitted a great part in the revolution anyhow so it seemed like a better expenditure of her time to think of things where she could have power. Enjolras wanted to rid France of royalty and despite the fact that she had aligned herself along with him Laurel still wanted to be a queen. As shown at lunch today, Laurel enjoyed the control she could have over people. The revolution would have a leader in Enjolras and looking ahead of herself now Laurel knew that Liette would make the image more beautiful by staying by his side. Laurel wouldn't be the romanticized girl of the revolutionary leader and therefore power didn't wait for her in that realm but on this stroll she became a leader in her own sense.

"Liette do you think your parents would mind if the boys joined us for dinner?" Laurel imposed, knowing that the boys would throw up their arms in protest but that Liette would bend to her request. Laurel didn't want to give up the attention that Combeferre was giving her and

she was sure that Liette would always welcome another moment to get Enjolras talking to her. In a timely manner they all played their parts and Laurel watched on, a contented puppet master.

"We wouldn't want to impose." Combeferre was a gentleman and so he was quick to react. He looked ahead of him, finding support in the other male. "Right Enjolras?"

"Of course." Enjolras nodded frankly. "Save your parents the trouble."

"Actually it wouldn't be trouble at all." Liette's gaze fell upon Enjolras like it had so many times before. She ignored Laurel's cunning moves to control this conversation but only because the outcome suited her. "I'm sure they'd love to have you there. Both of you." she added casting a glance back at Combeferre. Before she turned her head back to Enjolras she paused upon Laurel and gave her a knowing smile. Laurel's little tricks could become tiresome but Liette was usually the first to entertain them without much of a protest. She had always found that she got in less trouble when she went along with Laurel's games instead of resisting them. Resistance was foolish anyway, Laurel was a slithering serpent underneath the mask of a beautiful young woman and the only way to avoid her bite was to play along with her.

"You can get into another argument with my father about the illegitimacy of the aristocracy." Liette teased nudging Enjolras' shoulder.

"I'd rather not relive that moment," Enjolras' hand rubbed the back of his neck, a tinge of embarrassment coming over him. Fighting with Liette with one thing but arguing with her father had steered him away from Liette's home for quite some time. The heated debate with Liette's father this summer had not been his proudest moment especially when he insulted the man within his own house. His passion had overtook his courtesy in that moment he had found himself quite out of line. He had offered his apologies to Liette to give to her father but she refused to be burdened with such a message. After all, Liette had stood in Enjolras' defense after the argument despite the trouble it had put her in with her father for quite some time.

"Oh come on Enjolras, join us!" Laurel enticed with a girlish laugh.  
"It's still hours to dinner, we just had lunch."  
"Then you can join us in the sitting room for a few hours." Laurel's final plan was

unwrapped before them. Both men knew that refusing the invitation would be dangerous. Laurel was very good at getting what she wanted and when she didn't she took offense to that. Not many girls could hold a grudge as long as Laurel and no one did it quite as well. The silent treatment was the last thing to worry about, Laurel had much more treacherous methods of exacting revenge than just her silence. Enjolras knew the dangers that came with rolling the dice with Laurel and generally he would have preferred to avoid her games altogether but by agreeing to walk the girls home he and Combeferre had walked right into one of Laurel's traps.

Combeferre was much less weary about the invitation now that Liette was insisting it was no trouble. He had no classes to attend which meant an evening with the girls was a far better option than returning to residence. "Enjolras a few hours wouldn't hurt." Combeferre showed his allegiance to Laurel's team with his words.

"Joly's optimism has transferred to you then my friend, after all the mere minutes we've spent alone with these two could have already caused us battle wounds we'd never recover from." Enjolras' comment had Laurel laughing to herself while Liette shook her head at Enjolras.

"Well now you must come to dinner to make up for such a comment." Liette's lips pursed after she finished speaking. Her body turned towards Enjolras and he turned towards her letting out a sigh as he saw the unimpressed look on her face.

"It was meant as a compliment." Enjolras explained "Though I should not be surprised, you're not an easy woman to pay tribute to."

"You say that as if you pay me compliments more often than insulting me!" Liette stepped forward and turned fully to confront him. It had begun once again. The two of them had been getting along well today up until this point and Liette had been thankful for that but now she stood in front of him quite bothered. Liette felt that Enjolras didn't truly appreciate how often he shoved her away as if she was a child asking brainless questions. It was a game of tug-of-war with Enjolras that he controlled completely. Liette knew she was only deluded into believing she ever had the upper hand with him but the truth was that he controlled their friendship. He decided when they were going to get along or not. This time it was Liette who had technically started the fight but Enjolras' comment had been the thing to trigger her. Enjolras was the one who decided how close he would let Liette get before pushing her away again. It was the most frustrating experience in Liette's life but she hadn't given up on him just yet.

The boiling argument was sure to go off for the rest of the walk if allowed so Laurel took her chance while things were still relatively quiet. "Enjoras just say you're coming to dinner before you two start this bickering as you always do." she jumped in quickly.

"Yes, fine." Enjolras sighed knowing he needn't argue with both Liette and Laurel at once.

"I'm not so sure I want your company anymore." Liette said stubbornly causing Enjolras to roll his eyes at her as he marched past her. He would not have this childish fight if he could avoid it. Liette wasn't so keen on letting him get away so easily so she picked at the fabric of her dress, lifting it so she could match Enjolras' quick step, ready to go off on him once more. Her voice raised immediately but Laurel drowned her, turning to Combeferre instead.

"Combeferre, lets take the path through the cemetery and let the two love birds alone to argue." Laurel teased pulling Combeferre to the left. The stone gates of an old cemetary welcomed them like the arms of an embrace. Laurel and Combeferre left Enjolras and Liette who were too focused on their own battle to notice the fracturing of the group.

The graveyard was old, one of the oldest in Paris and it was not well maintained. The truth was that this graveyard had filled almost a century ago and therefore anyone who would have taken care of the tombstones lining the grass had given up or passed away themselves. The stones had begun to crack and mother nature had begun to do her best in transforming the place into her own work of art. The trees grew tall and the grass remained uncut and patchy while vines snakes about everywhere, constricting themselves around every substantial object they could reach. The place consisted of mostly overgrown greenery aside from few bright red plants that stuck out and brought an ironic lively sense of vibrance to the home of the dead.

Laurel had always seen graveyards as beautiful despite their haunting nature and sombre tone. She had made Liette walk this path many times when they had returned to their neighborhood after a day out in the city centre. This cemetery in particular housed memories of their childhood and the games of hide and seek that they had played when they were younger. It had hurt Laurel the most when Liette's family had moved from Paris because she had been left

alone for some time. Adelaide and Daveney had come into her life shortly after Laurel's departure but for a few months Laurel had been left alone. She had been sixteen at the time and it was in those months of loneliness that she had introduced herself to many of the boys attending her school and in her neighborhood. Games of hide and seek with Liette and her sisters changed to games of chase with young men between the mausoleums until they caught her and stole kisses from her lips. She tried not to worry about whether or not she had given up too much of herself back then and been a fool captured by masculine attention. Laurel's fretting remained on the events of the future, events that she could change unlike the ones of her past.

"They're quite the couple aren't they?" Laurel commented to Combeferre, smiling over at him as he matched his step to hers. They moved in tandem, two individuals becoming one as they stepped in line.

"I'm not sure you could call them a couple." Combeferre chuckled. He was not a man of gossip but he'd entertain Laurel's talk because it was what she wanted.

"I would and you know we all will one day." Laurel said quite confidently. "Mr. and Mrs. Enjolras. They'll lead a revolution hand in hand if they stop fighting in time." she chirped, loosening her arm from Combeferre so she could step ahead of him and break their pattern. She took this freedom and spun in a circle her blonde hair loosening in the up-do that tried to keep it reigned in and controlled. Unlike her hair, Laurel couldn't be clipped into a calm and contained personality, instead she moved freely and with such beautiful whimsy that Combeferre couldn't help but stare.

"You're a wondrous thing Miss Laurel." Combeferre said, switching focus on Laurel and moving past the talk of Enjolras and Laurel.

"And you're being suddenly formal." Laurel stopped her spin to stare at Combeferre, trying to read the look on his face. She had intended to wrap him around her finger but she hadn't expect it to be so easy. The man stared down at it shoes, denying himself the telling gesture of looking her right in the eyes. Laurel expected that he was experiencing a feint feeling of butterflies, a feeling that his medical textbooks had failed to explain to him. Laurel was a well read woman but she was also very aware that all knowledge couldn't come from books, much knowledge came from experience. She had always preferred living life over reading about it.

Combeferre wasn't sure how to respond to her. He wasn't filled with the witty quips that came from Courfeyrac or the suave lines that Prouvaire practically spoke in his sleep but his shyness was a sort of kindness that Laurel respected. She rarely ran out of things to say but that didn't mean she needed her conversation partner to talk as often as she. With Combeferre's silence she was able to continue to lead the conversation in her own direction.

"Why am I wondrous?" Laurel asked quite bluntly, standing still in front of him.

"You're asking a question I could spend days answering." Combeferre's eyes lifted from his feet with his honest and he made the mistake of looking straight up to Laurel's face. The smile that had lit up on her lips was one that deserved to be kissed. Combeferre wished that realm had already been explored by the two of them so he would not have shown hesitation in what he wanted. He watched as her nose crinkled slightly and dimples appeared on her cheeks as his gaze widened her smile even more. That smile was more beautiful than any sunset or sunrise that Combeferre had witnessed in his life. She was the rising sun and he would be her moon, happy to move out of the sky during the day to give her time to shine.

"Do you fancy me Combeferre?"

"Very much so." he was shocked by his own quickness. His heart hadn't allowed him to resist telling her the fact that he had formally suppressed. He had first met Laurel when he had moved to Paris for school and it hadn't taken him long after that to realize she was indeed a special young woman. Combeferre had carefully checked with each of his friends to see what competition he had in suitors only to figure out that he seemingly had competition in everyone. Laurel had never shown a single bit of preference to any one of the boys and therefore it had always been hard to tell where her feelings were actually placed. He had withheld pursuing her in the fear that he would face rejection in his first attempt of making them something other than just friends.

Laurel had found that feelings were tricky and they were best saved for the man you wanted to marry. Even then Laurel had seen very little evidence of marriages in her realm that had been built on true love and feelings. Most wedding rings had been bought out of convenience and circumstance. Laurel knew that as a future doctor Combeferre would be a suitable husband but she didn't like to think that far away. She was waltzing in dangerous territory by making this about feelings in the first place. She knew he was too kind of a man to care for trysts or stolen kisses that didn't really mean anything. In honesty she was getting sick of such things as well but wasn't ready to trust herself with the idea of the real thing. Laurel wasn't even sure if she believed in love, at least not in the capacity that other girls thought about it. Adelaide was the biggest defender in the idea but she had yet to convince her dear friend.

Still, despite her reservations Laurel took a daring step back towards Combeferre, closing the physical gap between them as she stood right before him, the fabric of her dress shifting against him slightly as she positioned herself.

"Kiss me."

The demand was slightly shocking but this time Combeferre allowed his body to take over, his heart guiding it along. His hands came to the sides of Laurel's face smoothly and slowly as he dipped his head down. He stopped just before her lips, his thoughtful mind stalling him in an last moment of doubt. Laurel was not as doubtful so she pushed herself up upon her heels to eliminate the last bit of distance between them. Combeferre reacted as her lips grazed his, his hands on her face suddenly pulling her closer until the kiss was more than just a light touch. It began in softness and in slowness but the tease of Laurel's soft lips against his own awakened something in Combeferre was that less shy and timid about such an interaction. With distance he was able to slow his movements down and consider them analytical but with Laurel as close as possible he stood no chance but to be pulled into her wild whirlpool. He would gladly drown here in her kisses if she permitted it.

It was Laurel who broke the kiss, needed a breath after Combeferre's sudden surge of passion. He crashed over her like an ocean wave, rough and chilling. Laurel surprised even herself with how lost she was with him in that moment. The beautiful green cemetery seemed to slip out of focus until she pulled herself away and forced herself back down. She would not become the victim of hopeless butterflies so soon. She had asked for such a kiss but that did not mean she would just throw herself at Combeferre. She knew that many men grew bored of women who didn't provide them with a challenge. Combeferre was an intellect and in the end

Laurel would have to provide him with more than kisses to keep his attention for as long as she wanted it. As with all things, Laurel attempted to remain completely in control of the situation.

Combeferre took in a sharp breath as he lost Laurel's lips. He wanted to submerge himself with her again, forgetting his own need for oxygen and breath. His mind begged for another kiss, suddenly inline with how his body was feeling. There was no protest in him any more, Laurel had truly snagged him far too easily. He watched with a sweet smile on his face as she glanced up at him and returned to grin. He prepared himself to pull her in again but instead he felt her slip completely from his grasp.

"Where are y-"

"Come on!" Laurel giggled at Combeferre's shock. She could see that she had taken away what he wanted and now he would have to chase her for it. A flash of brilliance lingered in her eyes before her hands clenched the fabric of her dress, lifting it out of the way so she could run. Combeferre reached out for her but his hand just missed her arm as she took off into the rows of tombstones, statues and mausoleums within the graveyard.

"Laurel!" Combeferre called in an exhausted tone that turned into a laugh when he found himself foolishly running after her. He shouldn't have been behaving like this, not if he wanted to keep his head. Combeferre had chased girls before but he had considered it a thing of the past, something that he had done as a boy and not now as a man. He had convinced himself time and time again that finding a wife could wait for after school and therefore garnering attention from girls wasn't that important. He had thrown himself into his studies over the past several years and joined Enjolras in his fervor in the summers. He had been a busy man, not distracted by bits of skirt or torn out of focus but a flirtatious laugh. Now he looked much unlike himself as he crashed through the cemetery, trying to catch up with Laurel. "Laurel!" he called out again unable to find her.

Laurel hid a laugh by clasping her hands over her mouth so Combeferre would not find her behind the status she had hid behind just yet. Above her the stone wings of a watchful angel hid her from her company. She heard the scuffling of feet, alerting her that Combeferre was getting close. She waited carefully, intended to scare when he came around the corner. A figure did come out around the corner at Laurel but it wasn't Combeferre. The man before her was dar skinned but his eyes were as gold as a sunrise and they seemed to glow when Laurel caught a glimpse of them. Her breath caught in her throat when she first saw him but as her eyes glanced down his torso to see an earthy skull in his hands Laurel could not stop herself from screaming.

The stranger fled at the shrieking sound of the girl before him, pushing her out of his way and to the ground as he held the skull firmly in his grasp. He hesitated as he tore past her, waving his hand mysteriously before he ran again, knowing that her screams would have alerted anyone in the area.

What happened next was more peculiar than the man with the glowing eyes. Vines moved from the base of the angel statue and suddenly Laurel's protector became her captor. The vines slipped around her ankles, tightening around them to keep her on the grass. She struggled against them but her efforts were futile as the vines seemed to get stronger with her struggle. She screamed again, terrified and alone.

"That was Laurel." Liette and Enjolras had only moved a few paces from the gates of the cemetery as their argument had planted them against each other. Liette halted her fight when she

heard the first scream, listening once again to make sure she wasn't hearing things. Without much thought she lifted her dress and took off into the graveyard, Enjolras at her heels. "Combeferre!" Liette called noticing the young man frantically looking around along the rows of tombstones.

"I think she's over here!" Combeferre called back, leading the group to find Laurel.

Neither Combeferre, Liette or Enjolras were the first ones to find Laurel. When they came around the cold stone angel the trio found their friend being pulled up by an officer of the law. He was not like the young men who had sat with Barthelemy today, he was much older and much harder looking. His navy uniform was marked with a ribbon that showed him as a man of experience. His old face was frigid as the lifted Laurel from the ground and pocketed the knife he had used to cut her free from the vines.

"What are you doing in here?" the man demanded.

"We're just crossing through." Combeferre answered for Laurel as he watched her lip quiver slightly in hesitation. He had never seen her so paled. The girl was but a ghostly image amongst the group, the wind knocked out of her by the attack.

"There was a man...he had a skull, he did this." Laurel spoke after, finding her voice. "Did what?" the officer asked as the others looked to their friend with worry.  
"Made the vines go around my legs!" she explained, pointing down to the cut ropes of

natural green that lay beneath her feet.  
"He made the vines do that?" the lawmen's voice was completely flat.  
"Yes!"  
The group looked at Laurel, unsure of what to say. Combeferre stepped forward to put his

arm around her in comfort, thinking she needed to just calm down. Furiously, Laurel shook away from his warming grasp, stepping up to the lawman and ignoring the others around her. "He waved his hand and the vines came off the statue and looped around my legs." Laurel found her confidence but her words didn't garner any trust from the others.

"I'm afraid you're suffering from some shock." the officer stepped back his face void of emotion. He didn't seem confused or concerned at all. It was more than just the typical rigidness you would see in an office he just didn't seem phased. It was as if he had heard stories like this before and was able to brush them off without a care. "You should take her to the hospital." he said looking to the others.

Laurel was about to protest when another joined their group. The young lawmen stood at attention as he caught the older man's eye. "Inspector, the grave robber got away." Inspector. The man before them was the infamous inspector Javert, the lawmen who had made life even harder for the beggars in the city centre. He was a hard man who wasn't fond of looking the other way when he saw the law broken. He worked by a code and he would uphold that code no matter what.

"That thing was not just a grave robber!" Laurel protested.  
"Laurel..." Liette whispered, looking at her friend with a worried look.  
"I know what I saw!"  
"We should go." Enjolras decided knowing that they were not in good hands with the

inspector around. Laurel could talk to them about what happened in private and perhaps it would

be enough to calm her down. She needed to be taken out of her frenzy so she could think straight. Enjolras was sure once they were removed from the graveyard.

"Be safe." Inspector Javert gave them a nod before turning on his heels, beckoning his young companion to follow. They marched out of the graveyard in the direction that they had come, leaving the others to deal with what had just happened.

"I'm not crazy." Laurel insisted, looking to her friends some support.

"Lets just get home, we'll get you cleaned up." Liette suggested brushing off some of the fresh dirt that had accumulated on the outer layer of Laurel's dress. Liette stepped forward and hooked her arm in Laurel's to lead them out. The boys fell in behind them walking out of the graveyard and down the street towards Liette's familial home.

The old stone house that sat between dozens like it was very different than the Northern French estate she had spent several years in as she had become an adult. She had been relieved by her parents decision to return to Paris especially because they would not permit her to move back to the city on her own. Her mother had stated that if she married a man who wanted to live in the city then she could move back there. She had had no intention to move back to Paris until Liette's father had accepted a position as the head district attorney in the city. The promotion was huge and therefore there had been no debate purchasing this house and calling it home. Liette had been the first one to pack her things, eager to get back to where life moved at a faster pace.

She unlocked the door with her key, knowing that a knock would have summoned the butler and caused Enjolras to scoff at her. Their argument had not been resolved but Liette's attention focused on her friend now, worrying about what state of mind the attack had left Laurel in. Laurel was a dramatist but Liette had never imagined her making up a story like the one she was telling. It wasn't like Laurel at all, Laurel knew these things to be illogical and technically impossible.

"Why don't you two go wait in the sitting room?" Liette suggested as they stood in the front foyer. "Laurel and I will just be a moment."

The boy bowed their heads to the girls before they moved to the right, heading into the adjacent sitting room while Liette led Laurel upstairs. She looked back at her friend, getting a better look of Laurel's dirtied dress. It would be better if they got Laurel into something so her parents wouldn't ask what had happened today. Liette hated being scolded by her parents but more than that she hated when they tried to lecture her friends about their behaviour. "Come on, I'm sure I have something you can change into."

"Li, you don't believe me." Laurel's sadness crashed down, the tone of her voice hallow and lifeless.

"I think you just need to calm down." Liette said, throwing the door of her room open, pulling Laurel inside. "I'm sorry for the mess." mess was not a strong enough word for what was going on in Liette's bedroom. Liette's normally put together room looked like a tornado had hit it. There were papers thrown everywhere, bools sprawled out on the floor, some of them opened and other ones just laying in piles waiting to be read.

"What is all this?" Laurel asked, bending down to pick up one of the books off the floor. "Witches and Warlocks? Liette what are you reading?" Laurel turned quickly as Liette closed the door behind her.

"Go get cleaned up, then I'll explain."

Laurel knew arguing with Liette was probably useless so she moved across the room, carefully stepping over the books and loose papers that littered the ground. Her eyes glanced down trying to make some sense of their contents but what she saw was even more confusing. She recognized Liette's writing and sketches but they were of nothing she had seen before. One page appeared to hold sketches of designed wooden sticks that were labelled as different kinds of words. Another had sketches of glass bottles and lists of ingredients. Laurel cast a look back to her friend, worried and confused as she made her way to the door of Liette's dressing room.

"I promise I'll explain when you're done."


End file.
